Relish For Constraint
by quantumsilver
Summary: "...I covet not that of others; my taste is for freedom, and I have no relish for constraint..." Words to live by. She doesn't, but who can blame her?


**Author's Note:** For VAMB's Secret Drabble Exchange. First line supplied by KJaneway115.

 _Relish for Constraint_

* * *

"Don't go tilting at windmills."

It's advice he's given us more than once. Judging by the rippling anger in your expression, he already said it today. He's always been the more trusting of the two of us. And he has a point.

"You've been out here on your own so long, you don't know what to do without enemies."

I understand, far more than you'd care to admit. You don't trust me – and you shouldn't. But then you're no windmill yourself. You're the reason they don't make it home in time. You're the reason I didn't.

Braxton won't stop me from stopping you. Not this time. I happen to have something he needs locked away in timeless suspension; it pays to have friends in high, or should we say omnipotent, places. That some universe carries a human/Q hybrid I'll never know the way I should is a small price to pay to undo the damage you've done.

Oh, but you'll fight me. I know you will.

Your skin is still so damned smooth and you're wasting it. Absolutely wasting it. You don't stop me from reaching out and touching what you won't let others touch, let me trail a fingertip over your warm cheek. "Cherish this. It goes quickly."

Your brow lifts. "Youth?"

"Idealism. And yes, that too."

"Chakotay thinks I should trust you."

"You should listen to him. He's a wise man."

"He's also a very trusting one. He doesn't know you as well as I do."

"You don't know anything about me, Captain. I, on the other hand, know everything about you _and_ him." I straighten, all business. "I want to meet with both of you, first thing tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" The suspicion in your voice is cutting. "Why not now?"

"He's busy tonight."

Your pain is absolutely exquisite to witness. The way you hide it almost completely except for a single, ragged breath is beautiful. The bitter woman I've become wonders if some subconscious part of her saw it, too. If she fed on it, and if she did, you created that in her.

"Seven," you say hoarsely.

I don't correct you; you'll only hate the truth more. Nor will telling you advance my agenda. I do almost pity you. Your only competition has always been me: you with nothing to lose. I know him inside and out, in ways you never could. I'm going to help you with that, too.

"Whatever it is you're really planning, I'm going to figure it out," you warn.

Probably. The damage will be done by then.

I head for his quarters, knowing he's alone, having ensured it with a well-timed request to his only possible evening companion nowadays, especially when you're this wrapped up in solving a puzzle.

"Admiral. Come in." His hesitation isn't entirely misplaced. He may be trusting but he knows us. He knows I'm up to something, slinking in here without you so late at night.

But he doesn't know all of me, and it's both his undoing and our saving grace.

"Tea?" he offers, remembering, and I let my eyes rake his body as he moves.

I touch him, more than briefly. I'm not as young as you, nor as beautiful but I am – or rather, I was, you. He doesn't stand a chance. He doesn't know it but he gave me this weapon once, the knowledge that he still wants you. I'm not what he wants but it's you he sees in semi-darkness when I slide aside and slip back into the principles that once bound me so tightly.

Minus one, of course. I do what you won't: display vulnerability, even need.

His lips are full and hesitant. He hates himself for taking what I offer but he genuinely can't resist. His hands run through my hair as I show him what you won't, and he ends up grunting your name more than once.

"She needs you, Chakotay," I tell him after. "She needs you to give her what she can't ask for. Convince her to take what you offered her three years ago. Tell me that you understand how much you need to make this right."

"You've been gone too long," he tries to insist. "Too much time has passed. I can't just-"

"But you will. If you don't, Seven and a lot of others will die. And you'll wish that you had, because you'll certainly be of no use to _her_ anymore."

"What happened to h-" he catches himself, swallowing, "you?"

"You," I say, not bothering to hide the kernel of truth in this particular lie. He crumples. I dress and make my way to the cargo bay with no excuses. He isn't the only one I've missed more than life itself.

Seven always was a clever girl. If not clever enough to see what she should have seen, then clever enough to understand my true mission. She can never tell you what she's about to do for you, for all of us, but her pragmatic mind coupled with a glimpse of her own emotional hell garners her swift agreement to my requests.

"You're prepared to sacrifice yourself for Voyager," she guesses, "to ensure that the Queen will be destroyed."

"What do you think?" She's so lovely. I hate myself for not being able to stop the image of her blue skin from marring the moment.

"She enjoys sparring with you. You will be a tempting target. I do not believe she will resist the bait."

"Assimilating me is personal," I agree. "It always has been. And she thinks that by doing it she'll get to you in the end. Seven, tell me you understand all of it. If this doesn't work today, or something goes wrong…she can't lose you. Neither of them can."

"I will comply," she promises to stake out her relative emotional distance from the two of you. Her gaze softens as if she can see things she never saw and she adds, "For all of us."

I'm only asking her to grow a little more quickly than is comfortable. Every time it feels wrong I remember the taste of her blood on my fingertips, feel Chakotay's misplaced hatred burning into me. But there's no guarantee that what I'm about to do will work, and if it doesn't: "I need to know that you'll be safe."

"I will comply," she promises again.

It hardly takes long for the two of us to devise a proper plan. By early morning, I'm prowling the corridors on Deck Three yet again, just in time to catch another peg falling adeptly into place. The soundproofing of your quarters isn't as good as you think it is, and muffled cries betray you both.

He slips out of your quarters even more rumpled than when he entered. I know perfectly well what you did and did not give to him. The "realization" you came to regarding me and my devious plans. The compromise you'll offer.

Seeing me, he starts guiltily.

I pat his flushed cheek. "It'll be our little secret, hmm?"

He pauses, frowning. "Why?"

"Don't go tilting at windmills," I tease, winking as I pass.

He's just so damned bad at identifying them.


End file.
